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We lived at 814 Melvin Place in Fair Lawn, New Jersey. I have a photo from that year of me and my brothers standing outside in the sun. I'm 13, Ernie Jr. is 14, and Lenny is 11. I have no idea why we were all dressed up in suits—it must have been Easter. We looked like the picture-perfect family of the "Lucky Generation."
But late that year, we hit a wall. The "Next Shock" hit right at home when Dad was laid off. He had a hard time finding new work, so my brother Ernie stepped up. Already showing the relentless hustle of a born salesman, Ernie spent his days doing odd jobs and caddying at the Saddle River Country Club. He wasn't saving for a car or teenage luxuries; he was handing his earnings straight to Dad just to keep the bills paid.
Intel travels fast in a family. My grandmother must have sent up a flare, because my grandfather Ross made the long trek from Chicago to Fair Lawn with a clear mission. He and his second wife, Ann, lived in a beautiful home in Wood Dale, Illinois (just northwest of Chicago), and they owned an adjacent lot. In an act of pure "Helping," Ross offered that land to my parents to build a house on.
I didn't know the "why" back then, but the "what" was crystal clear. We were trading Melvin Place for the Midwest. It was the end of my East Coast childhood and the launch of the "Construction Era" that would define my youth and my work ethic.
The Shack, the Commute, and the Construction Era
The Shack, the Commute, and the Construction Era
When we arrived at the Wood Dale lot, we weren't exactly moving into a luxury estate. All five of us crammed into a tiny shack on the property, complete with an outdoor outhouse. Let me tell you, an outhouse is never a pleasant experience, but in the dead of a freezing Illinois winter, it is a brutal wake-up call. But that shack was just a temporary staging ground; the minute our real house was framed, we tore that shack and the outhouse to the ground.
Getting that house built took relentless hustle. Dad initially found work at Electro Motors in LaGrange, Illinois, but when the layoffs hit again, he didn't quit. He secured a job with the Dayton Tire Company all the way in Dayton, Ohio. He made the grueling commute home only on some weekends, doing whatever it took to secure a home loan and keep the build moving forward.
But the true "Construction Era" for my brothers and me began when the outside of the house was finished. To make it work, Dad decided we were going to finish the interior ourselves. The three of us boys suddenly became a live-in construction crew. We learned the hard way how to measure and hang sheetrock, set doors and windows, and paint every square inch of the place. We weren't just finishing a house; we were building the work ethic that would define the rest of our lives.
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